In the Arms of Another
by AnnamarieDanvers
Summary: The months after Mary's wedding to Francis are dismal. The passionate love they once shared has soured as Francis begins to turn to other women for affection. Mary must watch as her husband parades his mistress around court, lonely and heartbroken. She is still inextricably tied to her husband, but can she find some semblance of happiness with Bash when he returns for her?
1. Chapter 1: Regret

_Ok, so I began writing this story right after seeing 1x13... And it completely shattered the hearts of every Mash fan out there. So, I wanted to write out a story not of how I wanted the episode to go, but of how I could see it either turning around or opening up for the love triangle again. I, However, remain a hard core Mash fan, so for viewers out there who are **team Frary**, this is **not a story for you** and you will be dissapointed._

_This story is rated M for mature content and lemons later on. I may decide to make it T, but I doubt it._**  
**

_Reviews are always appreciated and encouraged. How else am I supposed to know if I'm getting things right? ;)_

_Song while writing: Black leaf Falls, Sea Wolf  
_

* * *

**Chapter 1: Regrets**

Mary was perched on the window seat in her chambers gazing out onto the castles gardens. There were a few nobles milling about the grounds, but her eyes were fixated on a specific pair from court. Her eyes followed the laughing couple as they skittered around the lakeside, laughing and kissing; their affections so obvious she could tell even from this distance. She felt a presence at her side and didn't have to turn to know it was Lola. Neither woman acknowledged the other, instead opting for silent company while they shared their melancholy.

They sat like that for a long while, Mary fraying the hem of her shawl while Lola absently ghosted her hands over her swollen belly. The young queen was the first to pull out of her reverie. She glanced over at her very pregnant lady and felt her own hollow womb in envy. Her lady at least was rewarded with a parting gift of her husbands fleeting affections, unlike herself who was more alone than ever.

Francis had been very attentive in their early months of marriage. They had been full of laughter and shared affection, both of them flying on the possibilities that were laid out before them. Slowly though, that affection dwindled. Perhaps it had been when Mary had discovered her friend's fragile condition, but she knew in her heart that it had begun long before that. Francis had never understood her rash headstrong spirit, he probably never would. The fissure had begun with the rapidly increasing frequency of their quarrels. _The intensity of such arguments was not beneficial either_, Mary thought bitterly. The Scottish queen had been unwilling to relent and allow her husband to dictate her actions, or demand respect when he was unwilling to offer the same. In the end, the fate of Scotland meant nothing to him when he had France.

On the grassy hill beside the lake she could see her husband's hand resting dotingly against his mistress's cheek. Mary could feel a hot blush rising in her flesh; it had been a long time since her husband had touched her with any sort of affection. Though that didn't stop him from touching her, the residual bruise beneath her lower lip was a testament to that.

She thought back to how happy she had been to throw away her engagement to Bash all those months ago. She hadn't lied to him when she said she loved his brother more, but now she wondered if her judgment had been clouded by her long withstanding engagement to Francis. In her years at the convent the idea of her marriage to Francis was all that had kept her sane some days; she had clung to the hope of her fair prince and idealistic doting husband so tightly she hadn't thought it could be a hoax. Nothing Francis had done before their marriage had shown him to be a man of better character than Sebastian, and yet she had chosen him to share her company in the long years to come. Only her choice had left her more alone than ever.

Slowly, for it caused her great pain to tear herself away, Mary stood and strode over to her desk. It was far past due that she send letters to Scotland, for her mother the regent to carry out her will. Sighing sadly, Mary picked up her pen and began composing her wishes for her country; a far better use of her time than spying on her unfaithful husband. The thought, however, didn't banish the desperate loneliness settling inside her soul.

* * *

_Again, reviews are greatly encouraged! Hope you guys enjoyed and I'll try and post again soon. I have the next chapter already in the works._


	2. Chapter 2: His Return

_Hey guys, thanks so much for the awesome reviews! couldn't have gotten this chapter up nearly as fast without them. I really appreciate the feedback, it really helps me get ideas for my stories. So here's my next installment. This is actually my first chapter, the previous one was more like a preface. I really wanted to capture Sebatian's misery and his almost hate for Mary but still leave enough love that its clear which emotion triumphs. don't worry people, this is not going to be a fast recovery for the couple since I think Mary needs a little butt kicking first before she deserves Bash (If I had my way, he'd be all mine. O well, ce la vei). So I hope you guys enjoy. Review review review please!_

_Song while writing: Speechless, Morning Parade_

* * *

**Chapter 2: His Return**

The seasons changed, with new blossoms and fresh colors enriching the landscape. The young queen spent many days staring out towards the horizon, searching for something, though she didn't know what. As the scenery changed abruptly around her she found it did nothing to enrich her mood, the colors only reminding her how utterly miserable she had become.

The source of her misery was now even more estranged from her than before; the man at her side a stranger to her in every way conceivable.

Though if Mary was being honest with herself, she knew she preferred it when Francis paid her as little attention as possible. Just the previous week one of the noblemen had made an offhand comment about the Dauphin not performing his husbandly duties properly, all the while eyeing Mary's ever slim waist disapprovingly. That night Francis had come to her chambers and ordered out her maids who had been preparing her for sleep. Mary had known Francis was angered and frustrated and asked him to leave, she wouldn't have him there with her. Not like that. But Francis was determined to have her, and as he had told her before, a king takes what is due to him. Her lady's maids had rigidly stood vigil outside as their lady shrieked within her chambers, and afterwards they had cleared away the tatters of her garments and bandaged her wrists with salve. It wouldn't be the first time they had performed such duties for the women of court, nor would it be the last.

When they had finally left her alone in the early hours of the morning Mary crumpled to her knees in front of the fire place and shivered. She shook with exhaustion and fear, unable to rid herself of the feeling of unwanted hands raking upon her flesh. Slowly, she pressed a hand to her womb, hard. Hard enough that she felt tears spring to her eyes, praying that this last attempt at conception was unsuccessful.

Her lady's tactfully left her alone that day only entering to leave food trays by the door for her. She didn't touch them anyway, she was too cold to eat, her blood crystallizing to ice in her veins. She couldn't keep living this way; she was drowning in her own sorrow, the weight of her burdens pulling her down into an even darker existence. She felt her soul shrivel inside itself leaving behind only a deadened husk. She spent the night slumped on the floor with her cheek resting on the cool stone beside the fire place.

In the morning she rose, bathed, and dawned her garments and accessories. When she left her room her hair was bound up with her head held high. She emulated grace and poise as was expected of a queen, her hair bound like a respectable wife, no longer a girl. To the court she was regal and commanding; inside she was still that creature crying while huddled on the floor trying to soak in whatever heat was left in the world.

* * *

Sebastian de Poitiers stepped out of the nunnery in Montereau and released a heavy sigh. He had rode here first to investigate the well being of his cousins daughter, if she was being well looked after. The nuns had named her Cosette, and she had willingly toddled over to him and allowed him to hold her to him. She was a wonderful child, not at all frightened of his haggard appearance or his filthy exterior. She had snuggled into his embrace and promptly fell asleep soon after their introduction. He had held her for a time, but knew it was better he be on his way. He thanked the nuns and kissed her springy copper curls before handing her over to the women and exiting the abbey.

He would never admit it, but it pained him greatly to be around children of late. With the loss of his marriage to Mary was the loss of his legitimization. He would forever carry the title 'bastard,' a curse he would never willingly bestow upon a child. Before their engagement he had never thought much about children, but they would have been expected of him had he become king. Once thoughts of his and Mary's future children had sprouted in his mind they had become an infectious undying weed. He couldn't rid himself of their smiling faces, their little hands, eyes that mirrored his beloveds. Mary had opened the floodgates to wishes and dreams he had been too scared to want, and now they were far from his reach.

Bash clenched his fists as he thought of Mary Stewart. She was both his tormentor and his savior. Without her his life held no purpose, yet she was the one who wielded the whip that left the interlacing silver scars in his bones.

It had been months since he had left French court, months since he left her. Yet the pain had neither lessened or dulled, not when he took other women to his bed, when he drove his steel through flesh and bone, not when he rode his horse like the very hounds from hell were at his heels.

She was the true reason he had returned, not little Cosette though she was still his responsibility. But Sebastian had returned to warn her, not for her. His brother had tried to silence him the night of their marriage, but he had also made yet another attempt on his life several weeks past in Austria. It had shocked the bastard that his brother would be so determined to see his will carried out, that he would stretch the hand of his power across Europe to smite him down.

Bash wanted nothing more than to dual with Francis, to cut him down with his epée and hear his weapon sing in triumph. But he would not cause Mary undue pain simply for his pride. No, instead he would notify her of her husband's true nature. Not to win her favor, but for her protection; she had to know what sort of monster she had married. Even now, Bash had to keep her safe.

Of course, he also had many other reasons for returning to court: guarding himself against his brother, rallying his father's protection, bartering his mother's safe return to court. But all of which seemed to pale in comparison when he thought of Mary's safety. He didn't want to care so much about her, but care he did. And the sooner he assured himself of her well being the sooner he could leave her to her fate and he could move on.

Pulling himself onto his saddle, Bash turned to the west, his fierce blue eyes blazing in the last rays of daylight. Spurning his horse, he flew through the forest towards the Fontainebleau palace praying Mary was safe and well.

Bash reached court within the hour having ridden his horse hard until both of them were covered with a sheen of perspiration from the effort. It was past nightfall when he arrived, and the servants had long since finished their chores, leaving the grounds and the stables devoid of human company.

Bash didn't mind the solitude, in fact he relished it. The less people saw him at court the better. His time here had to be handled with care if he wanted to keep his head firmly attached to his shoulders. The bastard quickly unsaddled his horse and hung up his reins. He had left his saddle bags stashed in the woods so as not to catch anyone's attention who might wish him ill.

On his way out of the stables Bash passed a water barrel, and on a whim decided he better wash the dirt and grim from his skin before he entered the viper den that awaited him.

Leaning over the water he stared morosely at his reflection. His hair was long and lank, the ends dripping salty sweat into his feverishly bright eyes. His usual scruff was fast becoming a beard and layers of grime and dirt had caked itself over his skin until his normally charming good looks had transformed into that of a haggard pauper. How far he had fallen; from the favorite son of the French king to a dejected, beaten down man who slept in haystacks or propped against his horse.

Sighing deeply, Bash cupped his hands full of water and set about scrubbing his face clean. Pulling off his outer shirt, he also set about dousing the rest of himself in water hoping to temper the over powering musk of his days on the road. When he finally finished, the young man was sopping wet but decently refreshed. Of course, if he wanted to dry, dawning his outer shirt again was out of the question so Bash hung it up on a hook then began to stride towards the castle shaking droplets of water from his hair as he went.

He didn't dare take the main hall for fear of his brother's men seeing his presence at court. He wanted to remain unseen, the element of stealth one of the few weapons of any value here that he had in his repertoire.

Instead, Sebastian set his course for one of the outer doors to the elaborate passages that wound their way through the castle. He was lucky enough to be one of the few who could navigate the less treacherous paths that connected various chambers of the castle. He took the access beside the scullery, his hands trailing along the rough stones, feeling his way through the darkness. Twenty paces forward, fifty paces left. His feet echoed like claps of thunder around him as the noises rebounded around him in the small chambers. He climbed up thirty stairs then pivoted sharply left through a small doorway. The hall he had entered was narrow. His arms close to his body even as his ran his fingers on the walls on either side of him. It was impossibly dark, but he could see a rim of light seeping through the cracks of a door at the end of the hallway.

When he neared the door he crept forward cautiously on the balls of his feet. It wouldn't do well to alert the occupant incase his intended objective wasn't alone. The thought twisted like a knife in his belly, but he hardened himself against the stab of jealousy and grief. His brother had every right to be there and he knew it.

Bash sat there, crouched against the door for what seemed like an eternity as he listened for any sign that the queen wasn't alone. But the young man wasn't even sure he could hear anyone in the chambers. Anxiously, Bash pressed his eye up to the crack in the door and searched the room for signs of its inhabitants.

She was by the window, her body turned away from him as she stared out into the darkness in nothing but her night shift. The material was thin and almost transparent; the fire light illuminating her silhouette perfectly through her garment. Bash had almost forgotten the supple curve of her breasts, the graceful arch of her back, and the endless expanse of creamy supple legs. The image, however, didn't inspire the same feelings of devotion and adoration as they once did. It brought back the haunting memories of her eyes on him while she allowed his brother to fall into the valley of her body and sink into the soft heaven between her thighs. Memories of her tousled ebony locks spread over the pillows while she moaned in appreciation flooded his mind. His stomach churned unappreciatively and he tasted bile on his tongue.

Gently, Sebastian pushed the door open, the creaking of its hinges practically shrieking through the silence. Mary turned towards him sharply, her mouth popping open in terror.

Bash stood very slowly but made no move towards her; she seemed a frightened little fawn that with the slightest provocation would bolt away from him given the chance. He maintained eye contact and raised his upturned palms as a calming gesture. Her mouth continued to flounder, opening and closing as she swallowed thickly trying to gain her composure.

It seemed to take eons, but slowly her muscles seemed to relax and her eyes lost that keen edge of panic. She was far from composed, but the shock had seemed to have worn of somewhat.

Bash gazed at her with unfathomable eyes. Seeing her before him now, was a torment he felt shake him to his core. He had thought himself prepared to see her, to see her as she had been. He was wrong. Her skin was ashen, her lips bitten and chapped. Her once lustrous locks were worried at the ends as if she had nervously began running her hands through her hair over and over again. Bash hadn't known what to expect when he saw her again, but it wasn't this. Never this.

"Mary," he whispered brokenly, taking one fragile step towards her.

Her name spoken in that all too familiar timbre seemed to topple the barriers of her self control. "Oh, Bash," she cried as she fell towards him, wanting nothing more than to feel the warm comfort of his embrace.

His arms caught around her instantaneously, winding around her and holding her tightly to him of their own accord. "Oh, Bash," she sighed, clutching at his shirt, tears falling delicately onto his collar.

"I'm here," he murmured. "I'm here."

* * *

_Ok, so please tell me what you guys think! I need to know so I can work on the next chapter and get this story rollin. Please Review! _


	3. Chapter 3: Standing Vigil

**In the Arms of Another**

_Ok, so I just wanted to address some of my reviewers out there!_

_1. Yeah, I'm really not a fan of Mary at this moment either, hence why I'm gonna torture her just a little bit more before I give her a little nugget of happiness. I was just so pissed at the last episode that I needed to even the playing field a little bit before I feel that she deserves Bash again_

_2. Bash deserves a damn proper apology and a satisfying love story. However, that being said, I will be keeping up with a drama theme, so there will only be bittersweet endings in this. I'm not really good at keeping my endings strictly happy._

_3. Francis is a douche. There, I said it. But, he did have his moments. I can see Francis becoming like how I described him, but no I dont think the show will actually get THIS dark in terms of his character. And, while yes I am being pretty harsh on the Dauphin, he will get marginally better. There still has to be some good stuff to balance him out otherwise I'd just get to emotional about it and kill him off before his time._

_This chapter is mostly just leading up to the 'big one'. Its not very special, it just serves a purpose in laying out the floor plan for my heartbreaking masterpiece. So I'm sorry if its not what you guys expected._

_Enjoy, love Annamarie_

_PS:_

_REVIEW!... please, it helps me update._

_Songs while writing: Drop in the Ocean, Ron Pope and Wires, The Neighborhood_

* * *

Chapter 3: Standing Vigil

Bash sat quietly in a finely upholstered arm chair beside the fire. His back was turned slightly away from the flames, the shadows dancing over his features lending a sharper more intense look to him. His posture was unrefined, with his feet planted far apart, elbows braced on his knees and his head bent low between his hunched shoulders.

Across the room, Mary lay curled beneath her heavy quilts on her luxurious mattress. The immense size of the bed only made her seem more shrunken in size, like a small child curled in an adults place.

Sebastian had held her while she cried, trying to offer her whatever comfort he had to give. Eventually, she had fallen silent and lax in his arms. He had gathered her against him and sunk to the floor cradling her to his chest. The exhaustion of her terror and her sobbing had finally taken over her leaving her frail and unconscious in his arms. He held her in his hands like a small bird, for to him, that was what she was in this moment.

He wasn't sure how long he had let himself hold her like that. How long he had succumbed to his body's intense craving to be close to her. It was all he had ever wanted once, to hold her in his embrace and know that he was her protector and that she needed him as much as he needed her. But it was different now; he didn't know why she had responded to him the way she had, but he couldn't allow another moment like that to pass. The relationship and closeness they once had was lost, carried away in tumultuous currents and lost within a churning sea.

So he held her to him, desperately trying to imprint the feeling of her warm body to his hands; he fought to memorize the shape of her lips and the sweetness of her hair before the veil of the past fell over them again. He had to force himself to loosen his grip so as not to mark her opalescent skin while he rocked her in his arms, her head tucked beneath his chin. He could only allow his heart this one moment with her, for surely any longer would only enlarge the fissures in his soul.

When he had finally come to his senses, he had carried the young queen to her bed and tucked her securely within its folds. In a last burst of impulsive affection he had bent and pressed a kiss to her brow, his eyes clenching shut as he forced himself to let this be the last time he touched her.

Turning away, he started to make his way for the passage, but stopped short. She had been terrified when he had arrived, her eyes wild and mad with fear. He glanced back at her fragile form and decided against his departure. He would stay and watch over her until morning, and then he could say what he must and leave her.

So there he sat and kept a vigilant watch through the long hours of darkness. Sometime in the early hours of the morning Mary began to thrash in her sleep, whimpering pitifully. "No, no. Please, no!" she cried.

Bash had immediately stood and scanned the room for danger, palming the hilt of his sword in preparation for a threat. It didn't take him long to realize that the only threat was Mary's dreams. Crouching at the bedside, Bash tried to sooth her, whispering in hushed tones. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. They swiveled back and forth, but Bash knew she was still dreaming.

"Francis!" her voice was high and frantic. Disgusted, thinking she called for her lover, Bash removed his hands from her and backed away from the bed. _Not a nightmare after all_, Bash thought bitterly.

"No, not this. Never this," she breathed, her breath blowing dark wisps of hair away from her face.

Bash returned to his seat, ignoring her pleas, and waited for dawn's first light, his scowl never faltering as the night dwindled away into day. He would do what he came here to do and then he would be gone. He would leave, never look back and he would feel no regret. It was far past due that he try to move on with his life and let go of those who belonged in the past.

* * *

Mary awoke to find Bash stoking the fire. She was shocked to see him; she had thought him a figment of her imagination. A conjuring of her mind, projecting the root of her anguish. Had she imagined his appearance last night? Had he truly comforted her when she lost herself to her agony?

She didn't believe so; for the man before her was not the same as the man who held her so tenderly. This man was cold and rigid. His movements were tense and jerky, like those of an enraged wild animal. But she was used to this sort of behavior from men.

Mary pulled the sheets against her chest defensively, as if the sheer cotton could act as her shield. Warily, she kept her eyes trained on his back; she wouldn't be caught off guard by a man a second time.

As if sensing her stare, Bash straightened abruptly and turned to face her. "Oh, Bash," she breathed. His eyes were wild and savage, his fingers curled like claws at his side. His hair was ruffled and unkempt, with dirty smudges of coal and soot smearing his face and forearms. He stood before her in nothing but his riding pants and undershirt, the loose fabric barely concealing sinew and hard muscle. He looked like a man ruled by instinct and passion, and something primal in her responded to that, even while her mind skittered away and implored her to escape.

Mary shook herself slightly to rid herself of her momentary stupefied state. Ever so slowly, Mary lowered her hands, and with it let the white sheet fall and pool around her hips with the rest of the bedding. It would do nothing to protect her from him should he advance on her, nothing would. "What do you want, Sebastian?"

Bash's eyes hardened at the use of his full name. "From you? Nothing." Bash could taste the acrid lie, but couldn't stop it from slithering past his teeth.

The young queen felt his words like a physical blow. Somewhere deep down, she had never actually thought Bash was capable of speaking so harshly with her. "Then why are you here? You know that you even being here is treason." Her tone was equally brash if not somewhat mocking; she found hiding behind false bravado gave her courage.

"'Tis a good thing then that no one knows I am here then."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Are you asking as my queen, or as my Mary?" Sebastian meant the words as a barb, but he hadn't meant to address her as such. He shut his lips quickly as if doing so would make the words unsaid, even knowing they could never be.

"I stopped being your Mary when I married Francis," she replied, her voice low and chilling.

Sebastian whirled on her. "Don't patronize me, you were never mine. You always belonged to him." A fact that was a constant blade in his heart.

"I don't belong to anyone." It was a gallant statement, but as transparent as glass.

Bash was prepared to retort that she had become his brother's property since the moment she uttered her wedding vows, but there was something about her that stopped him. He took in her quivering lip and her trembling hands. From anger surely, but not just anger. There was something else about her words that struck a chord within him.

Sighing, the bastard glanced away from her and instead turned his attentions to the window. "Regardless, you deserve to know what sort of man you married." He said without facing her.

Behind him, Mary stood and reached for her dressing gown. "I know exactly what sort of man Francis is." Her tone was clipped and severe.

Bash bristled against her prickliness but decided to ignore it and press on. "Then you must be aware that he made an attempt on my life the night of your union and again this past month."

There was as short intake of breath. "But you're his brother!"

At this, Bash finally turned. "And you were to be his bride."

"That is no excuse; you're family!"

"I was a bastard that had the nerve to not only covet his crown, but also his future wife, Mary!" Sebastian was infuriated that she didn't see what her actions had cost him. Perhaps, once, his brother could have forgiven his infatuation with Mary, but his pride couldn't tolerate Mary's straying affections. The fact that both of them had conspired to steal his crown and his inheritance would only fuel his brother's tyrannical fury. All for the sake of his love, he had destroyed what little peace he had had in his life.

Mary's face crumpled at his words and she sank to her knees on the floor; fat tears silently rolling down her porcelain cheeks. "I'm so sorry Bash."

"You did it all for him. It was always for him!" Sebastian yelled. He was incensed; he had been used and manipulated, his heart pummeled and beaten all so his love could protect the man she really loved. The lack of self worth and the humiliation sat like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.

"Yes," she answered brokenly. "Yes, goddamit, it was all for him!" she shrieked, her face turned down in shame.

Both royals fell silent as the truth of their contempt, guilt and abhorrence fell upon them like a depressing shroud. Neither one of them could look each other in the eyes, the pain too unbearable for either to willingly share their inner hell.

When Mary finally gathered the courage to dredge herself back up her defenses were frozen in her throat. All she could see was Bash; the man before her taut like the strings of a lute, unpredictable as a summer tempest, yet so utterly shattered she was at a loss of words.

As it turned out, she didn't need to say anything at all. Without a word to her, Sebastian whirled and stormed towards the hidden passage, disappearing without gracing her with a final glance.

The young queen stared after him long after he had vanished, shaking with regret and horror at her own actions. She had been right to fear this Bash; he wasn't the gentle romantic boy she had once known. This was a man hardened by the harshness of the world, un-tempered by niceties or gentlemanly courtesy. He was unpredictable, and that both exhilarated her and terrified her, for how could she protect her heart from him a second time?

* * *

_So, what did you guys think? Review plz!_


	4. Chapter 4: Understanding

**In the Arms of Another**

_Ok, I worked really hard on this to try and make it longer (it came out more like 2 chapters) and that is why it took so long for me to update. Also, I went camping and stuff over the last 2 weeks; I loved it but the lack of wifi was __pretty horrendous._

_The general consensus that __I came to from the comments was more Mash, Francis is a douche, some Francis X Lola, and length. Length is easy to remedy, it's just easier to post sooner when you can do an entire chapter in one sitting. I am building to the Mash, be patient. Trust me, it'll be worth it; I already know exactly where I'm going with this. Cleary I believe Francis is a good for nothing twat. That being said I'm still going to write him with a few redeeming qualities despite his abuse and such of his wife. Because in real relationships like that, there is always a reason the abused stay and that usually stems from excuses and reasoning for behavior. Through this there will be Francis X Lola... just don't get your hopes up. There was a reason I didn't make them a pairing in this story. Cause really, I'd have to have people in multiple pairings for it to be accurate. Fidelity is definitely not a luxury of any character here; that's a warning for readers since I don't want people jumping down my throat about it later :P_

_Please leave your reviews!_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Understanding**

Bash awoke suddenly, his eyes squinting in the early morning haze while birds squalled overhead. The young mans head was pounding; he had drunk far too much wine the night before.

Propping himself up on one arm, Bash began to brush off his make-shift blanket: a pile of dry leaves that had left him smelling of earth and sickly sweet decay. Glancing around, he quickly found his water pouch and drank greedily, the clear droplets dribbling down his chin.

By the light, he would guess it was around five. Easing to his feet, Sebastian begun packing up and stowing away the few belongings he had strewn around his temporary camp. He had finished the last of his provisions the previous night so there was nothing left for him to eat for breakfast.

Sighing, he rummaged around in his saddle bag, retrieving a few gold francs. He had sold his buttons and buckles on his embroidered riding cloak in exchange for money. With it he had bought lower profile garments, hunting knives, and now he would purchase some bread for his meal.

He would have to run through the blood wood alongside the king's road to stay hidden. The last thing he needed was to be spotted by soldiers or diplomats on their way to the palace. The thought of entering Pagan territory made Bash uneasy, but he could see no way around it. His secrecy from court took precedence over his nerves.

Throughout his morning Bash had fought to concentrate on the mundane proceedings before him, but now as his feet pounded a rhythm into the earth, his heart matching pace, his mind began to wander. Mary's stricken face swirled in the depths of his mind, the tendrils of her hair ghosting over his every thought, tingeing everything with an essence of _her_. He should not have spoken to her as he had.

In the light of day his actions seemed abhorrent, his rage shameful. He had let his more base emotions get the better of him and now it was both he and Mary who had to deal with the repercussions of it.

His thoughts continued to spiral after her even as he ducked branches and blazed through ferns and undergrowth; the physical exertion doing nothing to stop the barrage of guilt. He knew even as he had spat those vile things at her that he would grow to regret them. It didn't matter that they were true or that she had deserved to hear them; it hadn't been fair for him to use his anger against her like a weapon. He may be a bastard but he had been raised with a greater respect for women that he had not honored the previous morning.

He could see her tear stained face conjured perfectly before him. The glistening tears paired with the grief and sorrow etched in every plane of her visage. Seeing her that way was a knife to his heart, in more ways than one. It tortured him knowing that he had been the cause.

The woods began to thin around him allowing for the morning rays to sparkle upon the dew. Sebastian slowed his steps as he came to the edge of the forest; his features became a mask as he hid his true emotions beneath the façade. He would have to be on his guard for danger while he re-entered the public's domain. Anyone could be watching, anyone could recognize him and start rumors of his return. Rumors that could lead to an axe at his throat.

His excursion in the village near Samoreau though was uneventful, much to Bash's relief. He had kept a low profile, his face masked by his riding hood, but none of the villagers would have known him or even recognized him now with his beard. For once Bash was grateful for his lack of a shaving blade; perhaps he would keep this new feature of his since it had proved so useful.

In the local tavern he had bought a wheel of cheese, bread, a few apples and a stone bottle of dark ale. It wouldn't be enough food for any more than a few days, but it didn't matter. He planned to be away from France within the week.

Sebastian now sat on a small bluff overlooking the lake. It was still early, so he reclined and basked in the sun without worry of being sighted by the guards. Even if there were people about, he had picked a spot with enough cover from the surrounding foliage and low lying branches that he would remain hidden from their prying eyes.

The rock was cool under his back, keeping him from overheating as the spring sun blazed around him. Biting into an apple, Sebastian continued to gaze out over the lake, watching the birds flutter across the shining water.

Suddenly, birds started to redirect their floundering, splashing around until they were drifting away from the shore. Shifting his glance, Bash nearly choked on his apple; Mary was striding towards the lake sans her ladies or a guard.

Double checking that they were truly alone, Bash decided he should make himself known; this could be his chance to convince her of the danger as well as to apologize. Silently, the bastard crept down from his perch and noiselessly weaved his way through the low hanging trees and bushes until he stood perhaps twenty paces from the queen of Scotland.

Bash wanted desperately to step into the sunlight, but anyone could be watching from the castle windows. It wouldn't do well for someone to recognize him and report that he had been seen secretly conversing with his brother's wife. Instead, Bash stayed where he was in the shadows and purposely snapped a twig beneath his boot.

Instantly, Mary's head shot up, her dark ocher eyes peering into the gloom. "Who's there?"

"Don't worry; it's just me, my Lady."

Covering her eyes to block out the sun and see better, Mary tried fervently to catch a glimpse of her companion. "Bash?"

"Hello, Queen."

"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, clearly alarmed at his boldness to be so close to court during waking hours.

Bash rolled his eyes though the effect was lost on her. "I should ask you the same question. You shouldn't be out here alone; there are dangerous things that lurk in the woods."

This time it was Mary with the attitude; she crossed her arms at him indignantly. "Then why are you out here all alone? At least I'm not in the woods; why don't you come out here?"

"I'm a man, Mary. Besides, I do not fear the Pagans." Bash knew that it was still very hard for Mary to accept that that was a part of him; the religion not his belief or choice, but a part of his past nonetheless. Her attitude about the matter was proved when she narrowed her eyes at him. "I can't," he interjected before she could argue with him. "Someone could see me from the castle."

Mary sighed and turned to face the palace; it was true, there were many windows that directly faced the lake; there were always those who resided in the shadows at court. "But must you hide?"

Bash shuffled his feet over the dry leaves. "Yes. For your safety as well as mine."

Both royals were quiet for a time. Bash, deciding tactics for convincing Mary of her imminent danger. Mary, wondering how she could ever be safe when she was constantly choked with fear.

Bash watched Mary, saw how the skin around her eyes tightened with tension. Her once clear laughing mahogany eyes were now tinged with sadness. He wanted desperately to erase it, but knew they had to maintain their distance. But perhaps it was within his power to distract her.

"Do you realize this is the place we first kissed, my Lady?"

Refocusing her eyes on the man before her, the young queen gifted him with a sweet smile. "So it is. Though I suppose things have changed somewhat since that time."

Bash ignored the tinge of unhappiness he heard. "Not really. We're both still as beautiful as ever, I'm still devastatingly handsome." He glanced over at his companion, pleased to see her radiantly laughing at his antics. "The only difference is neither of us is drunk, but that can easily be remedied."

"Oh Bash, do you flirt with everyone?" She giggled, her words echoing those of a simpler time.

Bash's own grin faltered. "No, only you." He answered, veering from their script. His crystal eyes dropped into his lap; he was suddenly overcome with his desperate affection for the dark haired beauty before him. Mostly though, he was ashamed of his aggression to her the day before. Judging by the shaking of her hands and the bluish circles beneath her eyes, her time here hadn't been as pleasant as he had presumed. It hadn't been gentlemanly of him to treat her as he had, and his guilt grew with every glance at Mary's miserable and gaunt face.

"Mary, I..." his voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words. "I am sorry for the words we exchanged before. Truly, I wish them unsaid." The words weren't enough and didn't express the depth of his remorse, not by half.

Mary appraised Bash for a moment before she sighed. "I cannot say that you were wrong. Everything you said was the truth."

The queen's diplomatic answer hung between them while their awkwardness permeated the air. It had been so much easier to bask in this small little moment of pretend ease and pleasurable company. Neither wanted to admit the proceedings of the previous morning had happened, for to admit it was to acknowledge the severity of their situations, to own to their actions.

Mary was too consumed by her pride to admit to Bash the depth of her misfortune; the consequences for her mistake. She had chosen wrongly, hurting both her and Sebastian irrevocably in the process; admitting her folly would display how far she had truly fallen.

Sebastian wanted desperately to pretend that he hadn't been as overcome with his emotions as his actions so obviously demonstrated. Not show her how deeply scarred and gouged his heart was by her, how irreparable the mark of her upon his soul was. Sebastian would have cut every vein in his body if his blood could purchase whatever the queen desired. He knew that now. And so did she.

The silence between them was excruciating; every passing moment allowing both royals to delve deeper into their crater of self pity and loathing. The atmosphere of pleasantries, flirtations and wistfulness had vanished, dissipating between their fingers, unable to be recalled.

Bash regarded Mary warily, his once humorous eyes now plagued with despair. "I should never have spoken to you as I did. I admit that I wanted to cause you pain; a small sliver of the pain I felt in being sent from your side." The bastard took shaky breath, his shame rolling of him in large crashing waves, silencing Mary's interjections. "It is not how I wish you to think of me, as a vengeful man. I wanted to be able to walk away form you with all the grace I might posses; instead I must offer my sincere apologies like the subordinate I am." Bash could do nothing to disguise the bitterness in his voice, but Mary could feel the contriteness of his statement nevertheless.

The young queen did something then that neither party expected; she stepped into the shadows and brushed her hand gently down one side of the bastard's cheek. His skin was flushed and cold against her hand and he closed his eyes as her fingers ghosted over the pale flesh. "It is I who must beg your forgiveness, Bash. I never meant to hurt you, but I did. I think that it almost makes it worse that I didn't anticipate what all this would do to you." Bash slowly opened his eyes and regarded her carefully. Mary cast down her gaze, her dark lashes fanning her cheeks as she fought for the strength to continue. "I actually thought that our lives would go back to the way they were. I never dreamed that you would be sent from court."

"It's not only that. I was robbed of being a real man, Mary."

"What do you mean?" Mary's voice was small and confused.

Bash pulled away from her touch and responded in a low voice. "I never intended to marry anyone. I had no name to offer a wife, no land, no title, no money, and no future. Not only that, but any child of mine, no matter of my marriage to their mother, would be called a bastard. Because _I_ am not legitimate." Bash shook his head and raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "Don't you see? I would never force this life on an innocent child, I can never ask a woman to marry me, and I can never know any sort of home or peace in this life. _You have robbed me of that_."

Mary stumbled back a step. "But that was your life before you met me. I didn't make you a bastard."

"No, but you dangled the promise of legitimization in front of me."

"I can't take that back! There is nothing I can do about what has transpired between us Bash." A few lone tears streaked down her ivory skin as she anxiously pushed a few stray locks out of her face. "I chose wrong, and I am sorry! I am so sorry, Bash…" Her voice trailed off as she choked back a sob.

But Bash was barely listening to her now. All he heard were the words '_I chose wrong' _ringing through his mind over and over. '_I chose wrong'…_ _Did she regret marrying Francis? _He wondered_._ He tried to dispel the notion, but the idea had already taken root, its threads weaving and knotting themselves firmly in his mind.

His theorizing was cut short though when he noticed Greer and Kenna making their way across the grassy fields towards the lakeside. Swiftly, Bash brushed his knuckled over Mary's cheeks, dispelling any evidence of her tears. With barely more than a lingering glance, the Scottish queen was back on the grass, seemingly enjoying the sun and the company of the birds on the lake. And Bash was once again submerged in the forests sheltering embrace, alone and wanting, his hand still burning from where he'd touched her.

* * *

Mary sat at her window and watched impatiently for the sun to descend beyond the horizon. It had been some weeks since that day by the lakeside, yet a day had not gone by that she had not met with Sebastian. Her days were now centered around the hour or two that she could steal away from court life to go either to the lakeside, or meet with Bash in her chambers after sundown. It was during these stolen hours that she could forget the stresses of her royal life that she could actually remain calm enough to actually stomach a meal. Bash was a soothing presence that always brought a calming ease to her mind. One that she was fast becoming dependant on.

It had begun so slowly that Mary had hardly even noticed. It started with her morning walk with Sterling a few days after the incident beside the lake. Sebastian had crept up on her still, within the boundaries of the forest, and kept her company while she walked the edges of the grounds. They had carefully avoided the topic of their previous encounter, but otherwise their conversation flowed freely wherever they wished it. Politics, science, literature, history… Their discussions never tiring, both Bash and Mary never ceasing to enjoy the others responses.

And so it had continued; Mary meeting an invisible bastard during her morning walks with her hound, whispered conversations by the lakeside, early morning rides without a guard… And now this, Mary lighting a candle and leaving it in her window to signal her ladies retirement and the dismissal of her guards. A single flickering flame to call her companion to her so they might enjoy a few hours away from prying eyes together.

Mary had meant the invitation innocently enough; she had noticed Bash's need of a shave and a bath and knew that he had been without either accommodation for quite some time. What safer place for him to clean up than under her protection? She had even procured a change of clothes and some pine soap for him, which were now neatly laid out beside the bath tub in the adjoining chambers.

But now, as Mary lit the candle and placed it in the window, she wondered if it was truly such an innocent arrangement. If perhaps she should have reconsidered her motives before suggesting such a meeting. Their conversations before had been pleasant enough, though never straying from anything but appropriate. Bash hadn't touched her since that fateful day when he brushed her tears away with the back of his hand. Yet, at the thought of his smiling face, she felt herself shiver, though not from the cold. _Had their meetings truly been more than friendly? _Mary wondered, though she supposed she would be the last person to recognize it if they were. She could scarcely remember what it felt like to be romanced; her husband preferring his fists over flowers.

Behind her she could hear the stone door to the passage give way, the creaking of its worn hinges announcing her long awaited visitor. Gathering her skirts about her, Mary spun from her perch, already smiling as her eyes met Sebastian's. "Well come on then! Let's get you all cleaned up before the water goes cold."

The dirty traveler eagerly followed her into the adjoining chambers, yearning to be rid of the caked on dirt and acute stench of decaying leaves. When he reached the tub, Bash didn't hesitate to strip off his clothes; it had been so long since he had had a proper bath. Though he noted with considerable satisfaction that Mary' cheeks had bloomed with color at the sight of his bared skin. "Oh, don't tell me that you're getting timid now. I still need you to cut my hair."

Mary gawked at the man in her tub in a way that was anything but queenly. But when she saw the cheeky grin peering up at her through a bushy black beard, she realized he was joking. Well two can play at that game, she thought. Reaching for the razor that had been placed on a silver tray beside the tub, she set forth to do exactly as instructed.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Bash exclaimed as his queen grabbed a fistful of his now shoulder length hair.

"What does it look like? I'm cutting it."

"Gah-"

"Hold still!" Mary demanded, her hand anchored on Bash's shoulder in an attempt to hold him in place. Bash quieted considerably beneath her touch, deciding it was better to not struggle against a woman with a blade.

Mary herself was infact quite flustered. While the bubbles she'd poured into the tub conveniently left certain things up to the imagination, there was still much that wasn't. Bash's chest glistened with the hot bath water and his own sweat, his flesh warm and taut with muscle beneath her hand. Her hands didn't shake as they wound their way through his shock of dark hair, gently slicing away the excess, though they did linger on his skin. At his temple, his neck, just behind his ear…

"Have you ever cut hair before?" Bash asked, conversationally.

Mary blinked a few times at being interrupted before settling back into the task at hand. "Yes, I cut the hair of the youngsters in the nunnery many times."

Both royals fell silent, the quiet kept at bay only by the soft sound of the blade running through Sebastian's hair. Sebastian was becoming increasingly aware of Mary's hands softly gliding over his shoulders, the feel of her breath, cool behind his ear. He had stayed at court hoping against hope that he had not mistaken Mary's words beside the lake. He had lingered hoping that she would give some sign that she truly did regret choosing his brother over him. Until tonight, he had had been unsuccessful.

He knew even after she had suggested this ridiculously dangerous rendezvous that she had meant it only as a kind gesture, a friendly act of generosity. Still, when he had come through that passage he could have swore he saw something more in her eyes.

It wasn't the same between them as it had been when they were engaged. Now, Mary seemed to confide in him more about all the stirrings at court, though she vehemently avoided the subject of her husband. They had spoken of Francis only once, and that once had left a bitter stain on that particular outing. She had off handedly mentioned Francis's liaisons with his mistress Charlotte, the conversation quickly ending when Bash joked that his brother was performing his marriage duties half assed.

They spoke of Lola often; Mary had been hiding her away from court when she had begun to show signs of her pregnancy. It was hard on the young queen, having to conceal her lady and lie to the rest of court that she was terribly ill. Mary often worried what would become of the baby once it was born; Lola would surely give the child away to the nuns so as to not tarnish her reputation. Mary had told him that her lady was determined that the baby wouldn't ruin her chances at having a husband and a good reputation. He hadn't asked who the father was, it didn't matter to him.

He liked how they spoke together now. Mary was frank and honest with him, with most things, though he could tell there was something that constantly troubled her. Something that she was constantly worrying over for she seemed ill at ease most days, jumping at shadows and nervously picking at this or that with wobbly hands. He had hoped that with their new found closeness she would confide in him her secret that she would drop her barriers and let him finally gaze at the Mary within.

Of course things were still tense; all the chatter in the world couldn't bridge the gap they had created between the two of them entirely. But the smiles, small kindnesses and sweet sentiments had begun to smooth over the sharper edges of their tumultuous relationship. A relationship both parties prayed would be permanently mended, for both Mary and Bash relied on it a great deal.

Mary cupped her hands full with water and tenderly poured the liquid over her companions scalp, clearing away the excess hairs. "There, all done. I'll just leave you with the glass and knife to do your cheeks." Mary patted his shoulder lightly in parting and was greatly shocked when his hand rose out of the water and clutched her hand in his. It seemed to have shocked Sebastian also for he froze moments after their skin made contact.

They stayed that way for a short while before Bash awkwardly mumbled, "thank you," and promptly released her.

The young woman stood from her perch and exited the bathing chambers hastily. She shouldn't have stayed in there; it was far beyond proper. She knew if anyone found out her reputation would be irreparably tarnished; her husband furious. The last thought at least put a small mischievous smile on her face. She could disobey him in this domain at least; his power didn't extend to her and Bash. Together it seemed that they were beyond his reach.

Mary sat quietly beside the fire, regarding the dancing flames calmly from her velvet settee. She could hear the logs within crackling with the heat, the scrape of the knife against Bash's stubble while he quietly sweared in the other room. For some reason Mary found the sound of him comforting, his voice filling her with an odd and fierce sort of affection.

She had never felt this way for Francis; never felt this all consuming fondness to be in his company. Not before their marriage and certainly not after. Kenna often spoke of her trysts with the king, but she spoke of zeal, lust and passion. While Mary had never felt those feelings in the way Kenna meant for either man, she knew her relationship with Francis could never be descried as passionate. With Sebastian she was free to speak as she chose; to yell, scream and shout if she wished. They spoke their minds to one another and weren't scared of the others wrath. Perhaps that was true passion.

Mary often had to remind herself when she quarreled with Bash to stand her ground; she had to remind herself that to speak up with Bash wouldn't result in a slap or a strike. It wasn't always easy, but with every argument escaped unscathed, she grew more and more at ease with him; convinced that he truly wasn't a man like Francis.

So lost was she in her own thoughts, Mary hadn't noticed when Sebastian had entered the main chambers. He stood silently against a stone wall and considered the dark beauty that sat before him nibbling on her lower lip. The light from the fire cast an auburn glow on her skin, bringing out a riot of color in her hair and eyes. The many facets of ocher and whisky ensnaring him in their lovely trance.

His fists balled tightly at his side; he wanted her so badly his very bones creaked with the strain of not rushing to her side that very moment. But when she finally turned and noticed him, his control was utterly destroyed. She sat there, her lips beautifully parted, her evening gown falling about her lovely frame, her long tresses caressing her hip bones as it hung loose and heavy about her.

Careening to her side, he had her hands in his instantly. She didn't fight him when he pulled her towards him, her lips yielding beneath his. She didn't push him away as his arms snaked around her waist, crushing her to his chest. She didn't protest when he lifted her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed.

It had been so long since Mary had been touched with any sort of reverence or devotion; she soaked up the radiance of this moment like a plant does sunlight. She refused to think of this moment as a crime against her marriage; to not be with him seemed a crime against herself. How could a moment like this be anything but _right_, with the love they felt between them?

Covering his body with hers, Bash hungrily delved his tongue into her mouth, demanding a response as desperate as his. Together, the two of them played a game of dominance with their mouths, attacking and parrying blows as they dared the other into submission.

Mary could feel her nipples harden against Bash's bare chest; the moisture and heat coming off him from his bath causing her shift to stick uncomfortably to her skin. Her blood boiled in her veins as Bash began to trail kisses down her throat to her collar; his hands blazing trails along her body with every caress.

Bash could feel Mary's nails scraping along his scalp, the sting of the scratches making his flesh ring with sensitivity while her abandon fueled his own desire higher. Wedging his knee between her thighs, Bash settled himself over the center between her legs; the feeling of being pressed against her pure heaven.

Mary felt a slight prickle of alarm as Sebastian's weight settled more firmly on top of her; images of his brother pinning her down bombarding her. Mary tried to fight off the slowly mounting panic; her eyes clenched shut, her breath shaky and uneven as she tried to focus on Bash. She was with Bash.

Bash settled himself more firmly against her, his weight pinning her hips beneath him. She could feel his hard length throbbing against her thigh as he continued to kiss her neck.

Though Bash was not touching her wrists, they started to ache and burn as if bound; the sensation of hot intense pain searing her flesh. She cried out in fear, unable to stop the sound from escaping any longer. The sound pierced the bubble of lust they had created; the shattering of the moment almost a tangible entity that Mary could feel slice at her heart.

Bash immediately pulled back, resting on his haunches as he surveyed the room for danger. When it was clear there was none, he gazed back at Mary; huddled against the headboard, rubbing her wrists and giving him a look of such utter hysteria and shame. When he reached out a hand to comfort her, she shrunk away from his touch.

"Someone has forced you before, haven't they?" Sebastian whispered. He had asked a question but hadn't needed an answer; he knew, the knowledge settling in his bones like ice.

Mary didn't answer him, only continued to clench her small delicate hands and squeeze her eyes shut so as not to see the pity on Sebastian's face. Had she opened her eyes she would have seen how tormented Bash was by this new revelation.

Bash had thought he knew the feeling of rage, but the white hot anger coiling in his gut was nothing he had ever experienced before. He was almost certain that his brother had been the one to abuse and maim his beloved, but his anger was chilled when he realized that this had most likely been going on before his return and during as well.

He had failed to protect her.

The time for no action is over, he thought determinedly. Leaning across the bed, Bash slowly inched towards the cowering girl trying not to startle her. Approaching Mary like one would approach a scared animal, Bash attempted to coax Mary into opening her eyes; murmuring sweet little nothings in hushed tones.

Unable to resist his gentle soothing voice, Mary opened her eyes and let him bear witness to the private hell she had been hiding from him since his arrival; the agony she had kept shielded from everyone.

She hadn't known what Sebastian would do, but his reaction to her plight surprised her. Wordlessly, Bash gathered her into his arms and held her to him tenderly; hoping that she would take what strength he had to give for he couldn't bear to see her so fragile. She lay limp in his embrace; her terror exhausting the last of her energy.

"I will never hurt you," were the last words Mary heard before she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_Ok, so what did you guys think? I'm sorry that the flow wasn't exactly perfect, but I wrote most of this on my phone while camping (not an easy thing that). And I know that it sucks that I didn't give Mash their big debut, but don't worry its coming :) __As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. I can't make this story without them, so PLEASE REVIEW!_


End file.
